He led with that hope as he helped Traci into Britt’s car, reminded her to call him, anytime, if she needed him. After thanking Charlene, assuring Allie he’d stay on top of things, he stood a moment on his hill. Quiet now, peaceful now, the lake below shining in the sunlight.

A perfect summer day, he thought, echoing Darby’s earlier assess ment. The kind of day for taking a sail, eating potato salad, drinking a beer in the shade.

The kind of day where it seemed nothing hard or mean existed.

But it did, always would. Life meant you navigated the hard and mean, rose over it, pushed it back.

So he would.

* * *

After using the warrant to enter Traci’s house, having a conversation with Clint’s hard-eyed mother at her place, his brother’s slovenly—the word popped into his head—wife at hers, Lee deduced they’d already figured out something was up.

In Jed Draper’s place, three kids—two in diapers that needed changing—and a third with a nasty look in his eye and scabby knees—fought, wailed, whined until Lee’s head throbbed.

But Sally Draper never deviated from her story, one that matched her mother-in-law’s almost word for word.

She didn’t know where the men had gone—certainly not hunting! Fishing more like, camping out for a day or two. And if that ungrateful Traci said her brother laid a single hand on her, she was a liar on top of being a lazy slut.

Bea Draper, the matriarch, had run the same line, and added a few flourishes. How Traci had a terrible temper, threw things at her hardworking boy. Was clumsy as a two-legged mule, always tripping over things—mostly as she didn’t put shit-all away.

Lee took note of the field glasses in both houses, set on the sill of the window facing Traci’s backyard.

He considered it all as he made his way back to the house where Traci had lived, and what he’d found—or hadn’t found—inside.

She’d run off at dawn with only the clothes on her back and Zane’s card in her pocket. Yet inside he’d found only two handmade dresses, both cotton and as shapeless as what she’d had on. No jewelry, no makeup—not even a tube of lipstick—two cotton nightgowns his grandmother wouldn’t have worn, and not a single pair of shoes.

He’d grown up with a mother, a sister, had a wife, had lived with a girl he considered his own from her teenage years, so he knew something about what he thought of as female debris.

Nothing, just nothing normal inside that house.

And he hated, hated he’d had no power or authority to do anything about it. Until now.

He walked to the McConnells’, found them both outside working their garden.

With a hand pressed to his back, Sam straightened, nodded. “Chief.”

“Got some fine-looking tomatoes going there, Sam.”

“We do that, and plenty of them. We can give you some to take home.”

Lee scratched his chin. “Believe it or not, we got talked into planting some of our own this year. Just a couple bushes, but they’re doing okay. Sure would appreciate having a few words with y’all.”

“Figured you’d be by.” Mary Lou adjusted her glasses. “I made some lemonade fresh this morning. You come on, sit down in the shade.”

“That’d be right nice.”

“Kids are coming later on for a cookout before we all head to the lake to see the show,” Sam said as they walked.

“Should be a good one.”

While Mary Lou went in to get the lemonade, Lee sat with Sam on the porch, let out a sigh as he got off his feet.

“I want to ask if you heard or saw anything from over Clint Draper’s place last night.”

“Can’t say we did. We had the AC on, windows closed.” Sam let out a sigh of his own. “He hurt that little girl again, didn’t he?”

“I can tell you she lit out early this morning, pretty beaten up. Don’t suppose you saw her go, or saw where Clint went?”

“Wish I had. Never seen her drive, so I’m guessing she took off on foot. We’d have helped her if we’d seen her.”

“I know you would.” As Mary Lou came out with a tray of glasses, Lee smiled. “That sure looks good, Mary Lou.”

“She got away, honey,” Sam told her. “She left him this morning.”

Mary Lou set the tray down with a rattle. “Thank the lord. We worried when we saw you and the officers that he’d killed her this time. But she’s all right?”

“She will be. My information is Clint went off with his daddy, his brother early this morning. Hunting’s what I heard, fishing’s what Mrs. Draper the elder claims.”

“Hunting’s more like, and we heard some shooting when we came outside.” After handing out the glasses, Mary Lou took a seat. “The Drapers don’t trouble themselves with hunting seasons, No Trespassing signs, or anything else. They do what they want and when they want.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where they favor going?”

Now Sam shook his head. “I know they put up deer stands right on the property line, a few of them. And I’ll tell you the God’s truth, Chief, I wouldn’t go looking for them up in the woods, not when they’ve got guns and cover. You were to step foot on their land, they’d unload on you and call it just.”

“Bea Draper would’ve told them you’ve been around. They got walkies,” Mary Lou added. “It was around nine, I guess—and after we heard the shooting—I saw her walk over next door, go right on in like she owned it. She didn’t walk out happy. I guess she saw Traci wasn’t there.”

“She’d’ve been right on the horn letting the men know that,” Sam continued. “And then y’all showed up. She’d have let them know to keep low, at least until you’d cleared out.”

“Well.” Lee drank some lemonade. “They’re not going to stay up there in the woods. We’ll do that clearing out, but we’ll keep an eye on the place. I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same, give me a call if you see any of them come back.”

“Happy to.” Mary Lou patted her husband’s hand. “But we’d be grateful if you kept our names out of it. They’re vengeful people, Chief.”

“There’s no problem with that. You just call me direct, you hear?”

“You watch yourself,” Sam added. “They won’t take kindly if you lock up one of their blood.”

“That’s just what I aim to do.”

Lee assigned a rotation of officers—in pairs—to watch the Draper land. He’d take his own rotation next shift, but decided he needed to get back, let his family know the status.

He found tables already covered with their colorful cloths, lights being strung, his sons hauling out more. And the little girl who called him Pap playing with the world’s ugliest dog.

Audra wobbled to her feet, toddled over to him on those sweet, chubby legs, babbling and grinning with her arms already held out to him.

He scooped her up, gave her a toss to make her squeal. Ugly dog raced off to leap on Molly, start a mock fight, while their own Rufus just snoozed in the shade.

He smelled more lemonade and growing things, heard his wife’s delicious laugh bounding through the open kitchen doors.

Normal, he thought. It was good, even for a little while, to come back to normal.

Audra wiggled down, toddled over to Darby, who—more squeals—hauled the baby onto her shoulders before she continued with the lights.

He went in, saw Emily checking potatoes on the boil for salad, and Zane struggling his way through peeling dozens of hard-boiled eggs.

“They ought to make a tool that does this,” he complained.

“They do. It’s called your hands.”

Emily turned, and Lee saw the flicker of relief in her eyes as they met his. “And here’s two more hands,” she said brightly. “Where are Silas’s?”

“I’ve got him and Ginny keeping an eye out for now. I’ll switch with them in a bit.”

“All right, you have a seat there with Zane. Want an iced coffee?”

“Babe, I’d’ve married you for your iced coffee alone. Anybody hear from Britt?”

“She’s at the shelter with Traci and her mama,” Zane told him. “She’ll head back here soon. I take it the Drapers weren’t home.”

“That’s right, but they’ll come around. The women have walkies, so they’ll know we’re waiting for them.”

He went to the sink—he’d been schooled more than once—washed his hands before he sat and picked up an egg. “The women were ready for us, had their stories together. Mary Lou McConnell said Bea Draper went over to Clint’s place about nine this morning. She’d have seen Traci wasn’t there, so they were ready for us with a couple loads of bullshit.”

He peeled an egg—he’d been schooled there, too—reached for another. “I tell you something right now, that girl’s lived a hard life over there. Both those women keep binoculars at the window that looks out at Traci’s backyard. She wasn’t lying when she said they watched her. And those kids—Jed Draper’s kids? Filthy house, and two of them wearing nothing but dirty diapers with the older one looking like he’d smother them in their sleep if he could get away with it.”

“Oh, Lee.”

“There’s a look, Em. He’s young for it, but there’s a look in the eyes, and he has it. And I come back here,” he went on while he peeled a third egg, “I see our boys working together. And that sweet little girl comes running to me, smelling like fresh-cut grass and shampoo, wearing that pretty little—whatever it is.”